


The Worst Predacon

by Opatoes



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opatoes/pseuds/Opatoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Predaking does not understand how this predacon can be so terrible at everything, but he’s going to make sure this tiny, carlike predacon is safe and happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Free Day

Dangerous as it is, adventuring around on Cybertron was just so much fun. He hadn’t been able to go around freely since before he joined the elite guard, afterwards where he had to stay in the archives 24/7 in fear of Decepticons. But the war over, the planet won, he was free. He got all the work planned for him done yesterday, so he had the whole day to drive and roam around. Maybe he’d find an old temple and he’d be like that one Earth movie character that Jack showed him a while back- Illinois Jones? Was that it?

In any case, the weather was a little rocky right now, and Ultra Magnus warned Smokescreen to come back before this particularly acidic storm came along. That was one rule he was more than happy to follow.

It was a really exciting trip, too! He found some ancient race tracks from one of the greatest races of all time, where the awesome Blurr literally ran tracks over the second place winner. Smokescreen only got to watch footage afterwards, but it is something he remembers to this day.

Not only that, he found all sorts of interesting crystals and rock formations, some small enough to store! Naturally, he scanned them first, and they seemed to be in the clear. One was a clear substance which he recognized to be Anhydrite, an additive in crystal form which, even before the war, was ridiculously expensive. He never even tried this stuff! He heard some bots actually killed to get this stuff. And he had it. When he gets back, he is going to share this with a certain someone.

Best of all, he soon stumbled on an energon deposit. While energon isn’t too much of a concern, now that the synth en formula was perfected, the taste of synth en has _nothing_ on the real deal. He was just about to comm the base, but the sound of a fireblast coming from nearby alerted the Elite Guardsmech, doorwings raising up in alarm, pressing himself against the nearest cliff in order to hide and listen.

He was glad he did, when he saw a familiar predacon harassing what must be a neutral that recently arrived. Correction: the neutral that recently deceased. Not the best sight to come to.

Knowing he was outmatched, Smokescreen was going to sneak away, but Predaking must have heard the slightest misstep from Smokescreen, because pretty soon after, the King was looming over the rookie, looking about as threatening as he usually does, which is extremely.

“Autobot. Speak why you are in my territory, before I repeat what I did to the other trespasser.”

Frag. Frag, frag, frag. Smokescreen spent a klik, not sure what to say, and just began babbling on, hoping to confuse the predacon long enough to run away.

“I was, eh, getting signals of energon here. Exploding energon. I wanted to make sure you were okay, you know? That stuff’s dangerous. I once saw another bot in the elite guard accidentally try to drink it. Not a pretty sight. His t-cog hit my face! You haven’t had any weird stuff recently, had you?”

_“Explosive energon?”_ Predaking can be gullible, but that _had_ to be made up.

Smokescreen continued on his babbling, and the more Predaking listened, the younger the mech seemed. This was the type of excuse a child would make to hide the horrible mess they made. Should a mechling really be wandering by themselves? But for him to be alive this long means they are powerful. For a youngling.

That was when he decided to raise this youngling to be a strong, powerful, proud predacon. His successor. The Predaprince.

By the time Smokescreen ran out of juice for making up junk on the spot, it was getting fairly late, and Smokescreen really needed to head back before things on Cybertron got nasty, with more aggressive wildlife coming out. Predaking had been quiet for a while, so he figured he didn’t even need to say goodbye. Maybe just a wave before turning around.

Apparently, he was wrong, because Predaking soon moves in Smokescreen’s way, refusing to move, curling up around Smokescreen. “You need rest. You will be able to explore your domain during the daytime.”

“Seriously, Preds? I’ve gotta get back before anyone worries about me--”

“It’s too late for that. You’re small, and you need rest to remain safe. I need rest.”

“It’s not even late- come on, the frag do you think you’re doing? Just--”

Before Smokescreen could protest, Predaking curled up around him in dragon form, one hand on the other, leaving Smokescreen stuck.

The sounds from around them were terrifying. He could hear a screech of a large, beastlike arachnid, and the prey they soon caught. He heard other predacons fighting in the distance. It felt like he could hear the planet turning to chaos with the darkness rising.

He never liked darkness in the first place, and the noises got him shamefully clinging to one of Predaking’s legs for safety. Predaking, noting this, wrapped a tail around Smokescreen, flexible enough to pet the mechling’s helm with it. There there, you are safe. No one will hurt you.

It wasn’t as hard to fall asleep as Smokescreen thought it would be, the warmth from the Predacon being like a heated pad, and he found himself cuddling up to the arm draped over him. Even with the terrifying slag that’s known to happen at night, he did not feel in danger here.


	2. Rained In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Predaking ruthlessly attacks Smokescreen.

Smokescreen woke with Predaking still around him, though the other looks as though they had been awake for a while, struggling to read a datapad in his alt mode. Huh. He didn’t expect Predaking to be the kind of bot that likes reading. When the other feels Smokescreen moving, he tries to hide the datapad, looking down at the small weird predacon

“Good. We can work on your hunting skills.”

“Hunting? Sure- I’m an awesome hunter. Watch this!” Smokescreen’s pulling an energon cube from his subspace, grinning at Predaking. Predaking is not impressed, just shaking his helm.

“I will have to teach you to hunt. Observe and learn.”

Predaking had gone after one of the newly-emerging wildlife on Cybertron, slaying it with one servo. Smokescreen  was impressed. Less impressed when Predaking dropped it in front of him and pushed it forward.

“Eat.”

“How do I- what? I’m not eating that.”

Predaking just shook his helm. This boy ain’t right.

“Go hunt something yourself, then. No, see the beast there? Take it down so I can test your skill.”

This was easy. Smokescreen can do this. Smokescreen prepared a blaster, and shot the thing down, and was just about to run to get his catch, when Predaking grabbed the handle between his doorwings with a few digits, lifting him up.

“Hey- the frag? The frag, Preds? Put me down! Put me down!”

“That is  not what I meant. I will have to teach you.”

“No, no. You know what? I’m not putting up with this slag- I’m  not some kind of youngling. And what kind of stuff is this you’re tryin’ to teach me? Lemme down so I can go.”

He was surprised when Predaking put him down after all, and was starting to run off when he heard a crackle in the air, hearing drops of acid coming along.  Frag. It’s already here . There wasn’t anywhere to get coverage from it, and he didn’t want to explain exactly what happened to Knock Out.

Everyone knew it was coming, and knew that it was going to be unusually acidic. The environment was already much more dangerous than it was before Cybertron went dark, and it wasn’t clear why.

It was then when he found himself lifted off the ground, doorwing handle in Predaking’s mouth. The larger mech was flying off with Smokescreen now, Smokescreen trying to find something to cling on for dear life. Predaking was fast, though, and got them into some ruins of Vos, still not having been repaired. There was a roof, and that was enough for them.

Smokescreen was about to just lie down after what just happened, but he heard an unpleasant sort of fizzing noise from Predaking. The big dragon got himself hit by the highly acidic drops, and even on a large, ancient bot, Smokescreen could see the damage already caused to the other. He could leave right now, and bridge back to base without seeing Predaking again. He really could. He missed Bulkhead, he missed Arcee, he missed Knock Out.

But he wasn’t about to leave the mech that just saved him to  this.

A click from his subspace, and he brings out a washrag, as well as a simple med kit. He wasn’t a pro medic like Ratchet, but he learned a thing or two in the elite guard, and tended to the Predacon’s wounds.

Predaking growled, the solute stinging almost as much as the acid. His wings were thinner than most of his metal, flimsier and weaker. The acid did a number on them. But the youngling was actually tending to his wounds? Predaking was supposed to protect  him. That’s why he picked him up once he heard the noise. But here he was, in pain and getting a cloth rubbed over him by a newspark. Humiliating seems like a good word for this.

Then again, being cared for like this, being given this type of attention was just unusual, he found. Smokescreen was very attentive, trying to be gentle, yet thorough with the cloth, ensuring that the acid wouldn’t affect Predaking anymore, and ensuring that his wings would heal.

What surprised Predaking was not only the little Autobot’s tending to his wounds, but the helm and belly rubs Smokescreen began to give the other once he had finished. Normally, he’d be offended at a Cybertronian trying to treat him like a pet, but the mechling was so  bad at it.

Smokescreen was pretty much right at the face of the other, trying to reach for both areas. He can get the helm, but it’s a tough reach down. But almost- almost--

Predaking pushes his snout forward, making Smokescreen stumble back until he’s on the ground, and in one swift motion, transforms to his root mode and leans down, servos grasping to Smokescreen, pinning the rookie that is now freaking out and completely sure he’s about to be eaten.

He’s soon catching himself laughing. And laughing. And laughing, squirming about as Predaking tickles him. It takes him a moment to even process what was going on, and he’d ask how Predaking even learned about tickling, but it was hard to make out that many words right now under this intense and dangerous attack.

“Mercy, mercy!” Smokescreen finally cries out, mouth hurting from this. Soon as he says those words, Predaking stops, now giving slow helm and tummy rubs to Smokescreen.

“It looks like I win.”

They were so caught up in this, that they didn’t realize it had stopped raining.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a chat I had with a friend. The title is based on the blog The Worst Cat, and somehow, I think that blog fits this very well.


End file.
